


Sacrifices

by TriaKane



Series: Designated Hitter [14]
Category: Leverage
Genre: Episode: s05e08 The Broken Wing Job, F/M, Rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-04-09 10:53:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4345763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriaKane/pseuds/TriaKane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joining the Leverage crew on a job in Japan when Parker is laid up, Lyn must do whatever it takes to keep the team safe, even if she's jeopardized.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sacrifices

**Author's Note:**

> OFC is an immortal telepath who is heavily involved with Eliot. They have known each other over 2 years and are living together in a rented condo in Portland.

_You must be willing to make sacrifices at times, knowing that the outcome will be worth it._ ~~Justine Moore

***

 

“Okay,” Eliot said with a sigh, “tell me what happened.”

I looked around at the lights of Tokyo spread below us. It was after midnight, and the hotel’s rooftop pool and lounge were officially closed, but a large tip to the right person had opened it up to us.

“I’m not sure where to start,” I finally said, looking at my hands.

“Start from the beginnin’.”

***

Waiting to meet with an emissary from the government, Sophie was pacing the hotel suite while I stood at the window, gazing out. I’d always loved the hustle and bustle of Tokyo; so many people, all with somewhere to go.

The room door suddenly flung open, the curator from the museum came in, followed by another man who appeared to be a guard. The curator got in Sophie’s face, railing at her in rapid fire Japanese. I stepped between them, pulling her back and trying to calm him, translating as fast as I could. Something about the guard distracted me.

“What’s he saying?” Sophie asked.

“He’s upset about that statue.” I turned to her. “He thinks you took it.”

“It was stolen?” she asked with all due concern, as I turned back to him.

I tried to convince him that we didn’t take it, that we had no idea what he was talking about, but we could both tell he didn’t believe us. Unconvinced, he stormed out. The guard lingered a moment longer, giving us a look that made the hair stand up on the back of my head, before leaving and slamming the door behind him.

“They’re not buying it,” I told her.

 _”Get out of there,” Nate said._

Sophie pointed to the door that adjoined the suite and we hurried over. We unlocked our side, but the other side was locked. I pulled a hairpin from my hair, and quickly unlocked it.

“Thanks, Parker,” Sophie said, giving me a tight grin.

Smiling back, I tried to hide my concern. If the curator came back and found us gone, he and his men would come looking for us, and they could blow the rest of the con. But I was really more concerned about the impression I got from the guard. 

Once the door was open, I checked the room and found it clear. We walked over to the hotel room door and I quietly opened it, peering out. The guard and his partner were in the hallway, but the door for the stairs was out of their view. I motioned for Sophie to go, and once she was safely in the stairwell, I stepped back into the hotel room, closing the door behind me.

The comms went crazy in my ear, four voices talking over each other, all telling me the same thing: get out now! But I knew I couldn’t and there wasn’t time to explain why. I took my comm out and tucked it into the pocket of my skirt. 

I closed the adjoining door and relocked it as best I could. I had to buy Sophie time to get downstairs and to the press conference.

I went over to the hotel room door and opened it, but one of the curator’s guards stopped me. He grabbed my arm and shoved me back in. When he saw I was alone, he became very angry and slapped me. I reacted automatically, punching him in the chest. He grunted as he released my arm, but then everything went dark as I felt something hit me from behind.

Everything was a blur as I felt myself being bent over a table. I looked up and saw a second man, a larger, stronger man, holding my arms above my head. The first man was behind me, pulling my skirt up. I tried to get away, but he pushed me down and kicked my legs apart. Jerking my panties aside, he shoved into me.

I yelled in frustration and anger. After all my training, after considering myself untouchable for so long, I couldn’t believe what was happening to me. Sure, in the past, I’d gone looking for rough sex, but I was so far removed from that person since meeting and falling in love with Eliot. I felt like it was happening to someone else. I began to wish they would just kill me so it would be over.

Then I heard Eliot yell and felt my arms being released. Realizing Eliot was there and had distracted the big guy, instinct finally kicked in; I reared back, banging my head into my rapist’s nose and felt freed of him. I spun around, kicking him in the face. I turned to see Eliot trading blows with the big guy. I could feel fury and rage coursing through my veins and in that moment, I wasn’t sure if it was mine or Eliot’s.

The big guy swung a high blow, but Eliot ducked and the man came at me. I jammed my palm into his nose, kicked him in the knee, driving him to the ground, and then I snapped his windpipe. He sank to the ground, dead.

I looked up and saw Eliot holding the rapist against the wall, pummeling his face.

“Stop!” I yelled. “Don’t kill him!”

Eliot hit him again.

“Stop!” I yelled again, moving to pull Eliot away.

“You want him to live?” Eliot snarled at me. He was breathing hard, his bottom lip bleeding.

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I want to kill him myself!”

Knowing Eliot was wearing a Christmas gift I’d had made for him, I lifted his shirt and pulled out the Kataran dagger from the hidden sheath behind his belt buckle. He looked surprised but didn’t stop me when I turned back to the rapist.

“Go to hell,” I whispered, watching his eyes widen as I slit his femoral artery.

The rapist tried to stop the bleeding but the cut was too deep, my slice fatal. 

Eliot grabbed my arm, pulling me back. He took the dagger, wiped the blood onto his black pants and slid it back into the hidden sheath.

“We gotta go,” Eliot said, half pulling me to the door. 

“Wait,” I said, pulling his hand away from the door knob. 

I tried to straighten my clothes, but my shirt was torn and had blood drops near the hem. I tucked my shirt in and put Eliot’s jacket on when he offered it to me. I helped him clean his bloody lip, and then he took off his knit cap, shaking his hair loose so it covered the cut above his eyebrow.

“Got ‘er,” I heard him say into his comm as we left the room.

“Sophie?” I asked concernedly.

“Fine.”

I could feel the anger radiating from Eliot and wasn’t sure where it was directed. I wanted to tell him, explain why I had done what I’d done, but with the con still in play, and the comm in his ear, it wasn’t the time.

Downstairs, in a hallway behind the conference room, he pushed me inside an empty coat closet.

“Got your comm?” Eliot asked.

I fumbled in my skirt pocket and pulled it out, thankful it hadn’t gotten lost in the fight.

“Give me your cell,” I told him. Looking like he wanted to refuse, he gritted his teeth, pulled it from his pocket and handed it to me. He knew the bodies shouldn’t be found, and knew I had a contact.

“Stay here,” he told me. I nodded, not looking to argue. He closed the closet door and went to resume his watch over the rest of the team.

I dialed a number long committed to memory.

“This is Lynae O’Neil, I need a reservation for two. A.S.A.P.” I gave them the hotel name and address, as well as the location of the two bodies. 

After being told it would be taken care of, I disconnected the call and deleted the number from the call history, then put my comm in.

I listened as the rest of the con played out. Sophie and Hardison accepted their award and were quickly hustled out by Nate. I heard Eliot tell the team to go back to the house, that we would join them later.

A few minutes later, Eliot opened the closet door and reached for my hand. I could feel that his anger had receded somewhat but was concerned that I couldn’t read anything else. He had shut down.

He took out his comm and motioned for me to do the same. Pocketing them, he led me from the hotel, out a side door and into a cab. I sat close beside him, our hands joined the entire time, but other than give instructions to the cab driver, Eliot didn’t say a word. I felt numb.

The cab dropped us off outside a large hotel geared towards tourists. Eliot got us a room and once upstairs, he led me into the bathroom, stripping off my clothes. As each piece of clothing was removed, I felt his walls come down, and my eyes burned with unshed tears. 

He quickly stripped off his clothes and turned the water on in the shower. Pulling me in, he gently washed me from head to toe, treating me like I was a fragile, treasured thing. I knew he was looking for any outward sign of what had happened, but there were no marks, no traces.

His feelings were huge and overwhelming. Anger. Guilt. Remorse. Fear. They were so strong, I felt my head pound and tried to tune him out. I needed to reassure him I was okay, but I had to get my head straight first. 

Turning the hot water off, he wrapped me in two towels and carried me to the bed. He set me down so he could pull the covers back, then turned and smoothly dried me, dropping the towels by the bed. Climbing into bed behind me, he pulled the blankets over us, and pulled me to him, wrapping his arms around me and twining his legs with mine, covering me as much as he could with his own body.

I knew he was trying to comfort and protect me, and I fell asleep, needing the mental and emotional break.

I awoke a couple of hours later, noticed he’d gotten dressed and was sitting in a chair beside the bed, watching me. He leaned forward and laid his hand on mine. I didn’t need to be telepathic to read the guilt and recriminations written across his face. 

“Do they know?” I asked softly.

“No.”

“They don’t need to,” I told him.

He nodded. 

I hoped he understood why I wanted it that way. Nate didn’t need to feel responsible because he brought me along on this job, and Sophie didn’t need to feel guilty because she left me. More importantly, he didn’t need to feel that I blamed him for not rescuing me in time. I had known what could happen, but I’d had to give Sophie time to get away and keep her safe.

I wanted to say more, to explain to him why I’d stayed, but he kissed my hand and left the hotel room. I didn’t know what to think, I didn’t know if he was coming back, I didn’t know what to do next. 

I stayed in the bed, waiting, uncertain and confused. I decided I would wait all night and make any decision in the cold light of day. 

I shouldn’t have doubted Eliot. He returned half an hour later with new clothes. I wiped away a tear when I went into the bathroom with the clothing bag.

Redressed, I came out of the bathroom and saw him hang up the phone.

“Eliot,” I said, needing to talk to him.

“Later,” he said softly. “You need to eat.”

He dropped into the chair and pulled me onto his lap. I curled up in his lap and leaned my head against his shoulder and waited.

After the food arrived and we’d eaten, Eliot took my hand and led me from the room and to the elevators. I wasn’t sure where we were going, but when a hotel employee met us at the doors for the rooftop pool and lounge, I knew Eliot had arranged a private place for us to talk, away from the safe haven of the hotel room.

***

The next morning, after a restless night, we shared a light breakfast before checking out and going to the house the team had rented while on this job. I tried to act normal, but I felt all eyes on me when we walked in. I excused myself, saying I needed to pack, and left Eliot talking to Hardison.

I was folding clothes when I heard a light tap and Sophie opened the door a crack.

“Can I come in?” she asked.

“Sure,” I said, waving her in. She sat on the end of the bed, daintily crossing her legs, and I waited for the inevitable questions.

“How are you?”

I knew she was almost as good as me at reading people, so I looked steadily back at her.

“I’m fine.”

She seemed unconvinced. 

“Why didn’t you come with me, Lyn?” she asked. “We both could have gotten away.”

“No,” I said, sitting beside her. “If we’d both left, they might have caught us and blown the con. We were almost done. You needed to get to that press conference. I needed to distract the curator.”

Sophie shook her head. “They could have hurt you.”

“I’m fine.” I smiled reassuringly. “They threatened to rough me up, but Eliot got there in time.”

There was still a ribbon of doubt running through Sophie’s mind, but I had no physical injuries to suggest anything other than what I’d said had happened, she could only speculate. Before she could ask any further questions, Eliot opened the bedroom door. His face and hands showed the actions he’d taken, backing up my story.

Sophie stood. “I’ll let you finish packing.”

After Eliot added a few pieces of clothing to my suitcase, he zipped it shut and then carried it out. Before I could follow, Nate held out a hand and gestured for me to step back into the bedroom.

Under Nate’s scrutiny, I felt exposed. He seemed to be looking inside me.

“That was reckless,” he finally said.

I nodded, not disagreeing. Although, I disagreed about why it was reckless, not having done it.

“Don’t take out your comm again,” he scolded.

“I won’t,” I reassured him, glad he hadn’t entirely ruled out my help on future jobs.

“Okay. Oh, and Lyn,” Nate turned to leave, but paused with his hand on the doorknob, “thanks for looking out for Sophie.”

“Of course.” 

***

The last couple of days had taken their toll, and after eighteen hours of flying and fielding countless queries about my well-being, I was tired of pretending everything was okay. I wanted to be alone and relax.

I encouraged Eliot to go with the rest of the team and check in on Parker, and took a cab from the airport to the condo we were renting.

After a long, hot bath, several glasses of whiskey and silence, I felt restored. Sitting on the couch, in front of a fire, I was wrapped in a silky robe, with a fleece blanket across my legs, when I heard Eliot’s key in the lock. 

I watched him shrug off his jacket, then come and stand in front of the fire, warming his hands.

“How’s Parker?” I asked.

“Fine,” he said softly.

I left him alone with his thoughts, certain he had questions but I knew that if he wanted answers, he was going to have to ask the questions. I hoped he would ask whatever he needed to know, hoped he wouldn’t let the unanswered questions fester and tear at us.

“How are you?” he asked, turning from the fire.

“I’m okay,” I told him. “Are you okay?”

He nodded automatically, but then shrugged. Stepping closer, he moved my whiskey glass and sat on the coffee table.

“Only got one question,” he said, reaching out to take my hand. “Why?”

I didn’t pretend to not know what he was talking about.

“Because I knew I could take it, and I knew she couldn’t.”

He was silent for a long time, his eyes studying mine. 

“Not sure how I feel ‘bout that.”

I shrugged. “I’ll always sacrifice myself for you or them. Same as you would.”

He started to argue, but I stopped him.

“It’s what we do.” And with those four simple words, I knew he realized the depth of my love for him and for the family he’d created with them.

He continued to hold my hand, rubbing his thumb back and forth across my knuckles, while he thought about what I’d said. Finally, he let go, picked up my glass and drained the last of the whiskey. Then he got up, sat behind me, wrapped his arm across my chest and pulled me back against him.

“I love you,” he said against my neck.

“I know,” I said softly. “I’m glad.”

The end.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Lyn for the beta, and Tarryn for the alpha. Without their input, this might not make any sense. I did add, fiddle and tweak after their help, so... :)


End file.
